Craig. Clemon. Dead. Both dead.
And now Teddy was out there somewhere, alone and hurting, in a town where people were dying.
Terror seized me with icy claws, squeezing my chest until I could barely breathe. Images flashed through my mind—Teddy lying hurt somewhere, crying for me. Teddy taken by whoever had killed Craig and Clemon. Teddy's small body discarded like theirs had been.
"No," I whispered, then louder. "No. No. No."
I turned down another street, my eyes scanning frantically. The market square was emptying, vendors packing up their stalls. I grabbed the nearest person by the arm—Mrs. Danvers, who sold fabric.
"My son," I panted. "Teddy, have you seen him?"
"Ruby—"
"Have you seen him?" I was screaming now, shaking her.
"No, no, I haven't. I'm sorry."
I released her and kept searching, kept calling Teddy's name until my voice went hoarse. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of amber and blood. Darkness was coming. Darkness where monsters lived and children disappeared.
My baby was out there alone. And it was all my fault.
Please, I prayed as I ran, my feet pounding against the pavement. Please let him be safe. Please let me find him.
The light was fading fast, shadows stretching long and sinister across the street. My lungs burned, but I didn't slow down. Every second that passed was another second Teddy was out there alone, hurt and angry and vulnerable.
I stumbled to a halt in the middle of the street, pressing my hands to my temples as I forced myself to think. To breathe. Panic wouldn't help Teddy. Panic would only make this worse.
Where would he go?
The question echoed through my mind as I tried to calm my racing heart. When Teddy was upset, where did he seek comfort? I'd taught him from the time he could walk—if you're scared, go home. Always go home.
My breath hitched as I remembered the place that represented home in those lessons.
The bakery. Our old apartment.
My feet were moving before the thought fully formed, carrying me through the winding streets toward the charred remains of what had once been our sanctuary. The acrid smell of smoke still lingered in the air, weeks later, a permanent reminder of loss. As I rounded the corner, the blackened skeleton of the building came into view, its windows like hollow eyes staring out at nothing.
My heart clenched at the sight. The charred beams jutting up like broken bones, the collapsed walls, the scattered debris that had once been my livelihood, my dream. I'd never be able to look at that spot without seeing Craig's body, without remembering the acrid smell of smoke and death and the terror of nearly losing my son.
I tore my gaze away and ran across the street, scanning the park. "Teddy!" My voice cracked, raw with fear. "Teddy, sweetheart, where are you?"
In daylight, it was a cheerful place, filled with children's laughter and the rustle of leaves. But now, as twilight bled into night, it transformed into something else entirely. The swings hung motionless, their chains creaking softly in the breeze like whispered warnings. The slide loomed dark and skeletal against the dying light. Shadows pooled beneath the benches, thick and impenetrable, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something might be crouched there, watching.
"Teddy?" My voice came out stunted by fear, swallowed by the gathering darkness.
I moved deeper into the park, my footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Every shadow seemed to shift and breathe. The ancient oak tree at the center stood like a gnarled sentinel, its twisted branches reaching toward the sky like grasping fingers. In the fading light, the spaces between its roots looked like gaping mouths.
This place that had always felt safe now felt menacing, as if the darkness had changed its very nature. Or perhaps it had always been this way at night, and I'd simply never noticed. Never had reason to be here when the sun abandoned the sky and left only fear behind.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I circled the oak, peering into every shadow, every dark corner where a small boy might hide—or where something else might lurk.
"Teddy!" I called again, louder this time, my voice echoing in the empty space.
Then I heard it—a soft snuffling sound, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. I froze, listening intently. There it was again, coming from near the far edge of the park from behind the climbing rock.
I ran toward it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Teddy?"
A small figure huddled behind the massive boulder, knees pulled up to his chest. Relief flooded through me so intensely that I nearly collapsed.
